Bullets pierce her soft skin,
Two through the arm,
The next in the temple.
She doesn’t yell, doesn’t scream.
Doesn’t call for her mommy.
Just falls to the ground, blood
Leaking from her, soaking the sidewalk.
A small piece of chalk falls from her
Tiny hand, as she collapses to the ground,
Eyes staring up at the sky,
Her soul already left her body,
As sirens echo from down the street.
Her mother rushes out the doors
Of their apartment complex, not
Understanding how this happened
To her little girl.
She clutches her five year old daughter
In her arms, yelling, cursing, crying.
Other kids surround the grieving mother,
Knowing this could have been them, that
Could have been their mother.
This might get a small segment on the news,
Or get glazed over completely,
And nobody will know what transpired
That day, except for the city that caused it.
She’s just another victim
From the same system
That kept her trapped there as her mother
Worked two jobs, trying to pay rent.
Now she doesn’t have anybody
Worth paying for.
She’s just another victim,
Collateral damage, from another
But to some, she was so much more.